


Escape Velocity

by AuroraNova



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-16
Updated: 2019-03-16
Packaged: 2019-11-19 05:01:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18131288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AuroraNova/pseuds/AuroraNova
Summary: In “Doctor Bashir, I Presume,” after Richard Bashir spills the secret of Julian’s genetics to the LMH, Miles immediately goes to find Julian. What if he did something a little different?





	Escape Velocity

**Author's Note:**

> I got myself the DS9 Companion, and it says "Doctor Bashir, I Presume" originally had a different ending where only O'Brien knew about the genetic engineering. Alexander Siddig was distraught over the implications for his portrayal of the character, so the script was changed. This is my take on the original idea... with added Garak.

Genetic engineering. Once that got out, it’d be the end of Julian’s career. Miles couldn’t say he’d ever given a great deal of thought to the prohibition one way or the other, but he knew Julian wasn’t a threat to anyone (except maybe their eardrums when he got too excited about his latest research project), he was a good friend, and DS9 was better off for having him.

Which meant he needed to keep Zimmerman from talking, and he had to move fast. He could’ve gone right to Julian, but time was of the essence, Julian would probably just insist on giving himself up, and then everything would be ruined.

His options were limited to the point of nonexistence, so he hurried to Garak’s Clothiers, where the proprietor was obviously surprised to see him.

“Chief, how kind of you to visit my humble establishment.”

“We need to talk. Privately.”

Garak hit a few commands on his computer. “This isn’t about a wardrobe emergency, I take it. There. Complete privacy.”

“How much do you care about Julian?”

Miles wasn’t convinced Garak was capable of caring about anyone, when it came right down to it. Not because he was a Cardassian (while admittedly it wasn’t a point in Garak’s favor, Miles realized there were decent Cardassians in the galaxy), but because he’d never seen a shred of evidence to suggest Garak had anything resembling a heart. Sure, half the station thought Garak was lusting after Julian, and considering his experience with Gilora Rejal, Miles conceded there might be some truth to that rumor, but you didn’t have to care to be attracted to someone, did you?

He really wished there was another person he could ask for help, but the only one who came to mind was Dax, and he didn’t want to get a Starfleet officer involved. Which left their resident ex-Obsidian Order agent.

Garak looked especially inscrutable. “You do realize it’s incredibly rude to barge into a man’s business and interrogate him on the finer points of his interpersonal relationships.”

“Then I’ll put it this way: if Julian is about to get kicked out of Starfleet and you could stop it, would you?”

That got Garak’s attention. “I’m going to need more information.”

“Will you help?”

“I have no wish to see the doctor expelled from Starfleet,” said Garak. “Information, Chief. I do not commit myself to courses of action without adequate facts.”

Miles hated to share the secret, but it wasn’t like he had any choice. Richard Bashir had seen to that. “His father thought the LMH model was Julian and promised not to tell anyone that he’s genetically engineered.”

“I assume from your concern that you weren’t the only witness, and furthermore this is prohibited for Starfleet personnel.” Garak’s face continued to give nothing away, damn him.

“Zimmerman heard, and I don’t even know that they’ll let him keep his medical license, never mind his commission.”

“I see,” said Garak.

“Julian’s not the next Khan. But I’m Starfleet, too, and I have a family to think about.” If his plan didn’t work, he’d be out of the service right next to Julian, which wouldn’t do either of them any good, and Miles was the first to admit he didn’t know a thing about blackmailing people. He figured Garak was probably an expert. Bringing him in meant the job would be done right (and from someone much scarier than Miles), and Miles had plausibly deniability he probably wouldn’t need because he didn’t think Garak would let that be an issue. “Now you… you don’t answer to anyone.”

Garak calmly said, “So you want me to kill Zimmerman.”

“No! Why would you… no!” Miles almost asked if that was a deliberate provocation, until he decided he didn’t actually want to know. Better to keep it as a possibility that the remark was Garak trying to get under his skin. “I’m asking you to help me blackmail him,” he admitted, which didn’t seem quite so bad next to murder.

“Presuming there’s anything with which to work, finding such material would take time,” said Garak. “I imagine time is a luxury we do not have.”

“You don’t need it. He’s sabotaging the LMH program.”

“Oh?” asked Garak, with a gleam in his eye Miles would usually consider bad news.  

“Yeah. My guess is he wants to keep the EMH around because it’s based on him.”

“His motives are of less interest than the existence of proof.”

“I can get it to you in a couple minutes.”

Garak handed over a civilian padd. “Download the evidence here. It’s encrypted.”

Miles decided not to ask why he kept encrypted – make that _heavily_ encrypted - padds lying around. “You’ll help, then?”

“Yes. Get me evidence of Zimmerman’s sabotage, and I’ll take care of him. Do something about the doctor’s parents.”

“Like what?” asked Miles warily.

“You’re an engineer. Lock them in their guest quarters somehow until I’ve ensured Zimmerman’s silence. Does Dr. Bashir know about this revelation?”

“He doesn’t yet,” said Miles. “I came here first.”

“A wise plan, Chief. Get me that proof.”

Miles just hoped he was making the right decision. Not that he doubted Julian, but he had serious qualms about the wisdom of trusting Garak.

* * *

 

“You’re one hundred percent healed,” Julian told Ella Peterson, who was on track to break half the bones in her body by age eight.  

“I still can’t feel my arm.”

“That’s because of the medicine I gave you.”

“The Anna’s thetic?” asked Ella as the infirmary doors opened.

It was Zimmerman. Julian would say the man looked unhappy, except he’d yet to witness any other emotional state. At least Zimmerman was content to wait while Julian finished with his young patient.

“Anesthetic, yes. It’ll wear off in about ten minutes, and you’ll feel everything again. No pain, though.”

“Good,” she said.

“And now you know why climbing the bookshelves is a bad idea, don’t you?” asked her mother.

“Yes,” said Ella sheepishly.

“What do we say to Dr. Bashir, Ella?”

“Thank you!”

“You’re quite welcome.”

As Ella skipped to the door, Angie Peterson repeated her appreciation. “Thank you, Doctor. She’s our wild child, as I’m sure you’ve noticed.”

Ella did make more appearances in the infirmary than most children, but Julian was used to seeing a variety of easily-treated childhood injuries, and a fractured ulna wasn’t unduly alarming.

Once the Petersons left, Zimmerman said, “May I see you in your office?” It didn’t seem like a question, more of a command. Julian was beginning to think he should’ve risked raising eyebrows by declining to model for the LMH.

“Well?” asked Zimmerman.

At something of a loss – usually people who asked to see you in your office started the resulting conversation – Julian said, “How can I help you?”

“Don’t play dumb. Your parents made sure you weren’t, from the sounds of it.”

Julian felt his entire world collapse. The resequencing was a black hole about to devour his life, the way he’d always known it could.

Zimmerman continued, “Now, I would like to leave this station before your Cardassian lapdog gets any ideas about arranging a conveniently fatal accident.”

_What?_

“I propose to conclude you aren’t quite the right fit for the LMH. Interviews have revealed a tendency to talk too much. A regrettably intolerable flaw, but one I’m sure you won’t contest, given the circumstances.”

“No,” said Julian. Somehow, his career wasn’t ending. “You’re of course working for the best interest of the project and future patients.” _Cardassian lapdog?_

Zimmerman hmphed. “Very well. And don’t think I’m unaware O’Brien is in on this, though I’m glad to see you have no idea what I’m talking about. You evidently have very loyal friends.”

Garak and Miles? Julian desperately wanted to know but dared not ask.

“For the record,” said Zimmerman. “I really don’t care if your genes were resequenced or not. If I thought you were a danger to the Federation, I’d have exposed you and let that Cardassian destroy my career.”

“I appreciate the vote of confidence.”

“It is nothing of the sort,” sniffed Zimmerman before stalking out of Julian’s office and the infirmary altogether.

What had happened? Julian could come up with any number of possibilities – it never paid to rule out anything where Garak was concerned – and his stomach roiled with fear for all the ways this could still ruin him. It was a very long list, and yet, as he thought about the situation, he believed he really might be fine. If Miles or Garak objected to him, they could’ve let Zimmerman file his report. They hadn’t.

Exposure had always been a possibility, and Julian therefore embraced his life to the fullest, trying to get his fill of experiences lest he one day find himself stripped of all freedom. He’d never expected to have anyone stick their neck out for him. It was the most generous action ever undertaken on his behalf, and meant more to him that he could express.

Once the computer informed him that Zimmerman was in the habitat ring, Julian headed straight to Garak’s shop.

“Ah, Doctor, I’ve been expecting you.”

“I just spoke with Zimmerman.”

“Did he decide to find a new model for his LMH? I do believe he’s heard some of the more vicious rumors about my past, and may have taken them to heart.”

Julian couldn’t handle the usual banter just then. “No games, Garak. This is my entire life we’re talking about.”

“Yes, and I must admit I’m impressed at your ongoing duplicity.”

“What happened?”

“Your father evidently mistook the LMH for you.” Garak shook his head. “You really should see to it he leaves immediately, Doctor. It’s a wonder he hasn’t told half the quadrant by now. Fortunately, Chief O’Brien’s loyalty to you overrides his adherence to peculiar Federation prejudice.”

“Miles knows.” It wasn’t a surprise, considering Zimmerman’s remark, but the confirmation made Julian feel more valued than he ever had in his life. Miles knew, and instead of hating him, or even standing by while Zimmerman turned him in, he’d gone to Garak to save Julian’s career. “But how did you keep Zimmerman from reporting me to Starfleet Medical?”

“I merely pointed out the many advantages of mutual silence. He doesn’t want it widely known that he’s sabotaging his own project, so the arrangement suits us all.”

Overwhelmed with emotion, Julian could only say, “Thank you.”

“No thanks are necessary.”

“From my perspective they are.”

“Then you’re welcome, and may I commend you on your unexpected deception? It makes me wonder what other secrets you might be keeping.” Garak almost looked proud.

“The one is more than enough,” said Julian. “I’m going to see how soon I can get my parents off the station. Lunch tomorrow?”

“Barring a sartorial emergency of considerable magnitude, I will be there.”

As though Garak was the one of them whose lunches were delayed by emergencies. Julian turned to go, then thought of something. “You said there’s a whole subgenre of enigma tales which requires an exceptional memory for even the smallest details.”

“Yes,” said Garak. “Shall I bring one?”

“Please.”

Leaving an intrigued and delighted Garak, Julian then went to find Miles, who the computer informed him was in his quarters.

“Come in,” said Miles in response to the doorbell. “Figured you’d be by. Zimmerman leaving?”

“Yes.” For this, words failed Julian. “‘Thank you’ seems woefully insufficient. It would’ve been enough if you hadn’t hated me.”

“Because your parents had your genes resequenced? That’s not your fault.”

“No, it’s not. But it wouldn’t stop most people, and I did lie. Only so I could have a life worth living, but I realize it doesn’t exactly counter the stereotypes about devious Augments.”

“You’re one of the least devious people I’ve ever met,” said Miles. “We all have something about ourselves we’d rather other people not know. Yours is just a little more…”

“I think the word you’re looking for is ‘illegal.’”

“Right.”

He sighed. As much as he wanted to finish this conversation, he had a more stressful one waiting. “I have to deal with my parents.”

“Garak had me lock them in their guest quarters.”

If they weren’t voluntarily on the next transport to Earth, Julian would be sorely tempted to sedate them and beam them aboard at the last minute. “Unlock them in five minutes?”

“Sure. You want to come by for a drink later?”

“I’d like that,” said Julian.

* * *

 

Miles ended up going to Julian’s quarters so as not to disturb the kids. After wrestling with his conscience for half an hour, he decided not to tell Keiko what he’d done. If it ever came out, better for her not to have any knowledge of a blackmail scheme. He did tell her Julian fought with his parents and wanted some company. She took over putting the kids to bed, and Miles resolved to give her a well-earned morning to herself on his next day off.

Which was how he ended up getting tipsy in Julian’s quarters. Julian told the whole story of his enhancements, Miles declared his opinion that genes alone didn’t make a man, and whisky was consumed. Not enough for drunkenness, but enough that they were feeling the alcohol.

Enough, too, that Miles asked, “Do you hate your parents?”

“I think it’d be easier if I did,” said Julian. “Mother and I had a decent conversation, by our admittedly low standards. Her heart was in the right place, at least. As for my father, I’ll never be able to please him, so I’ve given up trying.”

“His loss,” said Miles.

“I still can’t believe you blackmailed a Starfleet officer for me.”

“Technically, Garak did the blackmailing.” As expected, he’d done a good job of it, and Miles decided his own guilt was a small price to pay to keep Julian in Starfleet.

“Right. You asked Garak to blackmail a Starfleet officer for me.”

“He’s not going to give you any trouble, is he?”

“Garak always gives me some amount of trouble,” said Julian. “That’s part of the fun.”

“You have a strange definition of fun.”

“So I’ve been told.”

Two wrongs weren’t supposed to make a right. Somehow, it felt like this time they did.

* * *

 

“… therefore, this inverts the expectations of the 22nd century reader and offers a commentary on prevailing attitudes just after the formation of the Federation,” explained Julian.

His audience was unimpressed. “The nonhuman characters were racial caricatures.”

“Yes, that’s the point. At that time other species were viewed in very one-dimensional terms, which is somewhat understandable when most humans had never met anyone from another world, but the author was challenging that perspective.”

“By offering it to her readers?”

With Garak, there was no discussion of Julian’s resequenced genes. They simply met for lunch as usual, and Garak had barely sat down when he started criticizing his latest foray into human literature. He’d be attempting to work out just what about Julian had been enhanced, of course, if for no other reason than the joy of it.

Julian was still reminding himself this was real. Two of his friends knew and accepted him, even protected his secret. Having seen his parents off that morning, he started to think he might be able to relax in a week or two.

“She demonstrated how ridiculous the monolithic view was. Take T’Nela.”

“A duller character I have never read,” said Garak.

Miles approached their table. “Sorry to interrupt. Julian, can you do me a small favor?”

“Of course. What do you need?”

“You know how we don’t want Molly to feel neglected because of the baby? She’s noticed adults are always asking about her brother first. I thought if you come over for dinner you could spend a little time with her before we eat. Make a puzzle or something, so she gets to be the center of a visitor’s attention.”

Miles was an excellent father, and Julian was happy to help. He wasn’t great with babies – they weren’t communicative enough for his preferences – but interacting with Molly was no hardship. “What time should I arrive?”

“How’s 1730?”

“I’ll be there.”

“Great. Thanks.”

Before Miles left, he exchanged courteous nods of recognition with Garak. That was new, if unsurprising in the wake of their conspiring together to keep Zimmerman quiet.

“Now, Doctor, you’ll find the alien characters in the enigma tale I selected to be vastly more varied.”

“An enigma tale with non-Cardassian characters? I didn’t know those existed.”

“They’re uncommon, and I thought you would appreciate it. Keeping track of their subtle differences can be quite the challenge.”

“I’m up for it,” said Julian. “But we’re not done talking about T’Nela.”

All was far better in his world than he’d ever thought possible.


End file.
